Wheeling Gull Isle nemiyon

heda did not think she had ever felt closer to god. it was he — or her — they, this unseen entity, which now had created so vibrant a sensation within her that it almost felt as if she had been lying fallow until this moment.
when she turned, it was to see caracal. his expression was not something she understood, but his attentiveness to her had never gone unnoticed. heda felt as if she were floating, scarcely feeling the haptic feathering of the grass beneath her paws.
"god has blessed me with a presence," the young wolf said with stirring prayerfulness, glancing to the skies as if they might open with the sunwarmed light of that dreamscape sun.
and then her eyes were on caracal, on his features, on the handsome swell of his muscular shoulders and the way his cheekbones often sharpened in a grin, one she did not see now.
"i prayed. i dreamed." heda's voice was a whisper, as she found she could not look away from him, enthralled, transfixed by some unsaid notion that began a slow syrupy coiling in her belly.